Center stage, her honey-brown hair falling in her face, Lauren Farrah crouches over her acoustic guitar. Her voice rises and falls in short bursts, echoing in the Icehouse in downtown Phoenix.The Roaring Twenties-era venue screams cool, post-apocalyptic chic with its stark, open-air rooms with towering concrete walls. She's performing on a dreary Wednesday as part of a special "Garden Party" hosted by local psych-folk band Wooden Indian.

A Buddha statue stands behind Farrah, and a few girls surround her, swinging hula-hoops as one woman wraps mailing tape around another woman's arm. In a room behind Farrah, B horror movie paintings -- Dracula, abducted cows, et al. -- line the walls. Hipsters sip BYOB leftovers in the cold, as the last drops from a brief storm rain down. As Farrah sings, "Oh, lord, I want to break away clean," in whispered pleas, she appears slightly out of place in this jumbled and repurposed art scene.

Or, maybe she isn't. Farrah rolls a cigarette and sips a pumpkin-flavored New Belgium brew as she tells me how she went from being a CTI (cryptologic technician interpretive) in the Navy to getting signed to River Jones Music less than three months ago.

With her hushed voice and country-tinged folk, Farrah fits nicely on Jones' young roster, alongside Sareena Dominguez, Michelle Blades, and Courtney Marie Andrews. But Farrah's voice sounds more aged, huskier, and more weathered than most of Jones' signees.

"When I was younger, what I listened to was censored a lot by my mom because she was a charismatic Christian," Farrah says reflectively. "[I listened to] mostly big band and swing, old jazz, and stuff like that. Early years, that's probably where I got maybe a little bit of the vocal style from. Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, those sorts of ladies. Smoky and smooth and I hope I'm doing it justice." -- Troy Farah